


A Were's Last

by MarilynsWolf



Series: AWF [3]
Category: Powerwolf (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, M/M, Wakes & Funerals, look i wrote this pretty much right when wtwwhg came out you cant blame me for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 01:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarilynsWolf/pseuds/MarilynsWolf
Summary: It's the day of the service.





	A Were's Last

**Author's Note:**

> There is no comfort to be had here  
> Only pain and suffering
> 
> Also not part of the AWF canon timeline as of yet

The day of the burial came faster than the wolves thought it would. Each of them downstairs in varying states of roboticness, gearing up for the half hour drive to the eulogy. Charles had situated himself at the back wall, leaning against it with his arms folded, his usually solemn expression carrying a heavy degree of genuity. Roel stood beside him, occasionally brushing his hand against his mate’s arm; the attempts were universally shrugged off. Matthew was poring over a directions document, wanting to make the drive as over and done with as quickly as possible. Falk sat in the main room on one of the couches, clutching a string of rosary beads in the vain hope that religion would start working for werewolves. 

He jumped at the slightest sound, and nearly out of his skin when Matthew placed his hand on his shoulder. Glancing up at his Beta-turned-Alpha, Falk twitched a smile. Not much, but the wolves only had each other now. “You about ready to go?” Falk nodded, forcing himself up into standing. “Remember, you don’t have to speak if you’re not up to it.”

Falk pulled a face, glancing away briefly. “I have to, Matthew. I’m not going to sit in that church in pure silence.” He kept his voice carefully quiet, fearing any raise in volume would cause it to crack. 

“Only if you’re sure.” Matthew sighed. He forced himself level, it was all he really could do against the looming breakdown. If anyone had to stay stoic in this instance, it was definitely him. Silence reigned for a brief moment before Matthew clapped his hand on Falk’s shoulder once more. “We’ll be ok.” He said simply, trying to convince himself as much as Falk.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, it was about time for them all to get going. “C’mon guys.” He stated with a grimace. Charles perked up briefly, shoving himself off the wall; he found Roel’s hand with his own, clutching it for a moment before letting his hand fall back to his side. Falk fought off a shiver, silently following the rest of the pack to the car.

The silence was thick as treacle all through the drive to the cemetery, about halfway there Matthew threw on the radio just to get rid of it. None of the wolves commented. Pulling into the carpark, they were greeted by the few other packs that knew them.

Matthew roughly dragged a hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly; he left the car without a word. The rest of the pack followed suit, the car doors closing with definitive thuds. They walked over to where the other packs were milling, words of condolences muttering and whispering to them. 

Falk stood alone for a moment, gathering himself to face the other packs. Against his better judgement, he glanced inside the building, letting out a quiet but pained sigh at the coffin situated in front of the altar. He joined the milling, letting the condolences bounce off him, forcing himself to not register much.

The priest approached them after a few moments of mingling, the very picture of comforting. “The service shall start on your call, gentle-Weres.” Matthew nodded. “Then we shall begin. Come, be seated, and we shall commend those passed.” Falk swallowed the growing lump in his throat, staying behind for a moment as the rest of the wolves shuffled inside and into the pews. The priest stood in front of him, offering his hands, which were quickly taken.

“I don’t know what to do, Father…” Falk whispered, fighting the well in his chest.

“Do what your heart needs, dear Son. You have suffered a grave and unusual loss. There is no judgement in this place; speak if you will, but do not fear silence if you need.” The priest held Falk’s hands gingerly, a comforting smile pulling at his lips as he felt the Omega start to tremble. 

Falk let himself shake for a few seconds before steeling himself. The agony in his eyes apparent as he let his hands fall back to his sides. “Let’s go.” He whimpered, biting his cheek against the flow that he had to stop. The priest nodded, waiting for Falk to follow him before slowly walking inside. Falk quietly took place next to Matthew at the front. Silently, he thanked whomever was listening that it was a closed casket service.

The priest took place at the main podium, quickly glancing at all that had gathered. He cleared his throat and began to speak. “Dear beloved, we have gathered to mourn, to celebrate, and to say final farewells to the deceased. A loss of such magnitude, is no easy thing to cope with. Hopefully, today’s service will bring closure and peace to all those gathered.” He paused for a moment, opening the service booklet on his podium.

“Attila was renowned for his diplomacy, his warmth, and his dedication to his pack. For such a Were to die so young is a tragedy that is felt by all who knew him.” Falk felt himself slip into dissociation as the opening eulogy went on. The gentle words of the priest washing over his head, the world turning slowly grey in his vision; except for the dark auburn coffin lying in the center of the front space. A not overly professional portrait of Attila was propped up on top of the coffin, surrounded by luscious flowers. The knowledge that he would have to carry the coffin echoed almost silently in the back of his head.

His dissociative state continued through the various other eulogies before his own would come up; he hadn’t even noticed his hand slipping into Matthew’s own, or the near vice clutch he had on it. Words and time seemed to completely slide over his head, Falk didn’t even particularly care that he wasn’t registering anything being said by the wolves speaking at the podium.

Matthew gently waved a hand in front of Falk’s face when it was his turn to speak, chirruping at the little jump he did. About a thousand things flashed through Falk’s mind very quickly, most of which he equally quickly suppressed. He sucked air through his teeth, letting his hand fall from Matthew’s. Trying with all his being to suppress his trembling, Falk forced himself up.

His knuckles turned white from gripping the side of the podium so hard, trying to ignore the expectant silence that echoed through the church space. Falk swallowed the thorns in his throat, forced his mind elsewhere, and just started talking. “I don’t know where to begin, end, or continue with what I’m going to say. We’re all here because Attila helped us in some way or another. Whether it was menial, or life changing, he bent over backwards to try and better any situation you asked him to help with.” He paused, forcing the sob back down before it could come up. “I can’t begin to list the ways he helped me, helped all of us. I can’t try to put words into what h-he meant to me, or the rest of our pack.” Falk let out a choked cough, hoping it would steel him for the rest of the speech. He could feel that it wouldn’t. 

“I… I’m sure I’m not the only one that wants him back, even for a moment. But i-it’s only possible in dreams. In the light of the moon and stars, in the still of the night. He-” Another swallow. “He remains in our hearts, in our veins. He remains in the survival of the pack, in the joy of our family.” Falk could feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes; at this point, he didn’t care if they fell or not. “I want him back. To talk, to laugh, to tell all of us… To tell me, that’s it’s all ok. Please, my Alpha, my mate, my saviour… Tell us it’ll be. Ok. Oh… Gods.” He trailed off, feeling himself losing the battle against breaking down. Shaking his head for a moment, Falk quickly forced himself away from the podium back to his seat. Once there, he just held his head in his hands, clutching at his hair to give him something else to concentrate on.

Falk didn’t notice the rest of the service continue on, didn’t notice Matthew taking and holding one of his hands, didn’t notice the quiet stream of tears rolling down his face. 

“Falk… We have to carry him, now.” Falk closed his eyes for a moment, ignoring the gentle waiver in Matthew’s voice. Now and forever, he silently told himself. Stiffly, he rose from his seat, still holding onto Matthew’s hand. Roel and Charles were already at the sides of the coffin, decidedly patient about the whole deal.

Falk took up position at the front of the coffin along with Matthew and the rest of the pack. Their combined strength made the task of carrying the coffin to the hearse light, Falk pointedly ignored the sobs starting to echo from the other wolves. He revelled in the heavy dissociation that quickly blanketed his mind, robotically shifting the coffin into place in the back of the hearse. The few steps he took to back away from the vehicle started to break his forced resolve. His breath stuttered, the tremble that had been brewing in his hands travelled up his arms and to the rest of him. The finality of seeing the coffin start to drive to the burial site getting to him a lot faster than he hoped it would.

Falk grabbed Matthew’s hand again before he could think about it, Matthew had no problem with this. He started to take a step, intending on following the rest of the gathered in following the hearse. He didn’t get that far. Falk tried not to bring Matthew down with him as his legs folded, falling to his knees with a crunch as the gravel beneath him shifted. If he had looked to the side, it probably wouldn’t have helped since Charles had done the exact same thing.

Falk let out a ragged yowl, digging his nails into his scalp and trembling like a madman. Matthew fell to his knees in front of him, quickly embracing the wailing Were. He was trying his damnedest to not start crying too, but that resolve was quickly fading, the hiccuping sobs starting to rack at his throat and chest.

The pack let themselves cry for a few moments, letting the worst of the screaming happen when the rest of the gathered weren’t there. Matthew let out a lengthy sigh as their wails died down slightly. Still shaking, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, offering his hand to Falk as he got up. Falk took it after a moment, stiffly unfolding himself from the ground and rubbing at his eyes as he stood. Glancing sideways, Roel and Charles were also helping each other stand up.

Without a word, they made their way through the cemetery to where the rest of the gathered and the priest were waiting to finish the funeral. Attila’s coffin had already been lowered into the hole, waiting to be filled over. Falk was quietly thankful that they hadn’t waited to do the lowering, something telling him it would have been bad for him to see it.

The priest cleared his throat, stepping forward to make the final address. “And so, dear gathered, here at the final resting place, we must say a final farewell to the deceased and see the end of our service and celebration.” He paused. “The gathered are welcome to stay for the actual burial, but be warned, it can be quite a traumatic sight. For now, I bid you all a blessed farewell. Amen.” Hanging his head for a moment in quick prayer, the priest took a few steps backwards and over to the cemetery workers who would complete the ritual, quietly talking to them as the gathered started shuffling away, saying their goodbyes to both Attila and his remaining pack.

Matthew glanced at the pack he was now in charge of, something twitching at his lips but he didn’t know what it was. “Do we want to just go?” He asked gently. A quiet chorus of affirmatives echoed back at him. Falk choked a cough, deliberately not talking lest he break down again. 

With a final glance at the burial site, the wolves turned and started walking back to the car. They’d be alright. Matthew would make sure of it.


End file.
